


Under the Rose

by maple_penny



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Harry Potter AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maple_penny/pseuds/maple_penny
Summary: “Tessa Virtue.” This time, the name rolled off of the man’s tongue delicately, as though each syllable were a glass crystal. He beamed. Even from the stairs, Isabelle could spot the twinkle in the man’s eyes. “My god,” he chuckled. “You are one difficult woman to track down, T.”





	1. Chapter 1

The weather forecast lady had insisted that it would be bright and sunny all day, yet eleven-year-old Isabelle Virtue left for school that morning with a rainbow umbrella in her hand and red boots on her feet. Good thing, too, because while the other kids had nannies or drivers that could come pick them up on unexpected rainy days like this, Isabelle had to plod home all alone, backpack secured against her chest and hoodie pulled over her head.

“Five-thirty, right?” Morgan said as her father’s suave limousine entered the school premises. 

Isabelle gave a barely visible nod. 

“Where was it you said you lived again?” Kaylee enquired. “Just a minute!” she then yelled at her nanny, who always had that cross look on her face.

“She lives in that incredibly dull, gray house down the street,” Morgan answered for Isabelle. “It’s not difficult to find. Just look for the house that looks like it’s about to be demolished.” Morgan then flashed a smile at Isabelle and batted her eyelashes. “I might be a little late to the party, but I’ll be there. I promise. I just need to go back home and grab the present I got you.”

Isabelle listened to all seventeen empty promises made by her classmates before she headed home. The rain pelted against the seven colors of the rainbow and, no matter how hard she tried to avoid the puddles that had formed on the streets, every step she seemed to send droplets of water flying in all directions. It was starting to get chilly, despite it only being three in the afternoon. Isabelle quickened her steps, zipping the front pocket of her bag and fumbling around for the key along the way.

“No one’s coming to the party, Grandma,” Isabelle announced the instant she pushed the door open. She slid her backpack off of her shoulders and placed it gingerly by the door. Heaven knows what her mother would say if she dropped it onto the ground and cracked the screen of her tablet like she did right before Christmas holidays began. “Have you started on the deviled eggs yet? If you haven’t, I was thinking we could use the eggs for something else. None of us like deviled eggs anyways--we only make them for the guests.”

Grandma Kate came scuttling out of the kitchen looking ever so perplexed. She wiped her hands on the quilted apron that Isabelle had made her for Mother’s Day. “What do you mean no one’s coming, darling? All of your classmates said they were going to be here. Abby’s mom even cancelled Abby’s piano lessons so that she can come to your party. Your mom told me just the other evening.”

“Well, they’re lying,” Isabelle stated very matter-of-factly. She swung her bag over her shoulder and bounded up the stairs. “Just like last year, and the year before that, and the year before that.”

“You can’t know that for sure, dear!” Grandma Kate yelled after her. “You’re not a seer!”

Isabelle leaned against her door and closed it shut behind her. Tears that she didn’t know she wanted to shed now coated her pupils. “I don’t need to be able to see the future to know,” she whispered.

* * *

Five-thirty came and went without the front door being opened even once. Out of the corner of her eyes, Isabelle saw her phone light up a couple of times as the time neared seven in the evening. She flipped it over and concentrated even harder on her math homework. 

“Isabelle?”

Tears splashed onto the paper at the sound of her mother’s voice. She tilted her head back and wiped away the tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes.

“Isabelle? Izzy, can I come in?”

Taking a shuddery breath and clearing her throat, Isabelle swerved around in her chair to face the door just in time to greet her mother. “Hi, Mom,” she smiled. “I didn’t realize you had come back.” She leaned into her mother’s embrace. The comforting vanilla scent of her mother’s perfume filled her lungs. It always had a calming effect on her. “Did Grandma Kate leave already? Why didn’t you call me? I would have come downstairs. I didn’t get to thank her properly earli--”

Isabelle’s rambles were interrupted by her mother. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Tessa blurted out. She kissed Isabelle on the top of her head before pressing her cheek against it. A plate was balanced delicately on the palm of one hand. Sensing imminent disaster, Isabelle reached up and placed it on her desk. “And I’m so sorry about your party. Honey, if I had known…” 

“I know, Mom. I do. Can we just… not talk about it right now?” 

Tessa nodded, albeit hesitantly, and gave her daughter’s shoulders another squeeze. “I brought you some sandwiches.”

“And a cupcake,” Isabelle grinned, delighted with her mother’s choice of chocolate sponge and vanilla icing.

Tessa mirrored her daughters’ grin. “And a cupcake.” She ran her hand through Isabelle’s ponytail, twirling the strands of rich brown hair around her fingers. “Grandma Kate mentioned that you’d probably prefer having dinner upstairs tonight, but if you’d rather come downstairs, that’s fine too.”

“I think I’d rather stay up here tonight.” Isabelle caught the flash of disappointment in her mother’s eyes. “I--If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Tessa brushed her knuckles against Isabelle’s cheek. “Of course, darling. Anything you want. It is your birthday after all.”

* * *

Thunderclouds hovered above Manhattan as Isabelle munched on the sandwiches and chips her mother had brought up for her. It was rather alarming. Isabelle didn’t remember the storm ever being this bad, especially in July. Her mouth dutifully munching on the last bite of her sandwich, Isabelle leaned against the windowsill and admired the sight outside. People were being swept towards whatever destination the wind commanded them to go; malfunctioning umbrellas seemed to be the norm; the trees appeared to be gripping onto the ground for dear life, and there were absolutely no signs of the stray cats that roamed the streets or the dogs that chased their tails in their owners’ backyards. Isabelle did, however, spot some owls flapping their wings furiously against the howling wind, every single one carrying an… envelope in its beak? 

A bolt of lightning struck the near vicinity. Isabelle jolted away from the windows, still puzzled by what she was so sure she had witnessed: a flock of owls looking very much like they were on their way to deliver some very important mail. Perhaps she really was going insane. Her classmates accused her of it from time to time, such as the time when she had, supposedly, caused an opened paint bottle to tip over and ruin poor Morgan’s masterpiece.

“For Christ’s sake, Isabelle,” she reprimanded herself. “Snap out of it.” She plopped back into her seat, where her cupcake was begging for her attention. Her mother had stuck an Oreo on top of the heap of frosting. Isabelle observed as the Earth worked its magic on it. Right as the cookie toppled off of the cupcake and made its inevitable descent towards the green and white polka dotted paper plate, Isabelle caught it and slid it into her mouth. 

Now that the chocolate cookies and sweet cream were devoured, the cupcake looked quite plain. Where the Oreo once stood majestically was a crater. It would have been the perfect place to stick a birthday candle in. 

Isabelle stretched her arm across the table and inched her phone closer to her using her index and middle fingers. To say that she felt silly was an understatement, but nevertheless, she pulled up an application, aptly called _Candlelight_.

“Eleven is old enough, don’t you think?” she asked no one in particular. She spotted two specks of vanilla beans on top of her cupcake, peering up at her with utmost curiosity. Setting her phone next to the plate, Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands together. “I wish I could meet my dad,” she uttered under her breath, so silently that one would believe her had she claimed that she had not spoken a single word. She then took a deep breath and blew out the digital candle.

Once again, thunder crackled outside her window, startling Isabelle. This time, however, it was accompanied by the shrill ringing of the doorbell. 

_That’s odd_ , Isabelle thought. They weren’t expecting any visitors--other than the seventeen ten and eleven-year-olds that were due to come several hours ago, that is. Her cupcake long since forgotten, Isabelle poked her head out of her bedroom. The doorbell rang again. Normally, Isabelle would have leapt down the stairs to greet their unexpected guest. Tonight, she simply stood at the top of the stairs and watched as her mother cautiously made her way to the front door. Her mother was holding something, Isabelle noticed. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, but something in her gut told her that it was a weapon. 

“Mom?” Isabelle squeaked. 

The intruder started banging on the door in sync with the pounding of Isabelle’s heart. 

“Go inside your room, Isabelle,” Tessa ordered. It may have been Isabelle’s imagination running wild, but the door knob began to turn all on its own. “Go inside and lock the door.”

“But--”

Tessa snapped her head towards Isabelle, her eyes flashing with a degree of fiercity that Isabelle had never seen before. 

“Tessa Virtue!” the intruder bellowed. “Open the door. I’m getting drenched out here.”

“ _Now_ ,” Tessa growled at Isabelle.

“Don’t make me burst the door open, Tess.”

Isabelle watched with horror as her mother raised the weapon she had in her right hand whilst backing away from the door. She wanted nothing but to do as her mother told her to, but her feet refused to move. In fact, it was only until black dots obstructed her vision that Isabelle realized that she had been holding her breath the whole time. She heard the click of the door unlocking followed by the door flying open. A man, short compared to the booming voice he possessed, entered the house, the ends of his coat dripping with water. He pulled out some sort of branch and whirled it around once, twice, then thrice. 

“That’s better,” he muttered, using one hand to comb his now dry hair back. Tucking his stick back into his coat, the man returned his attention to Isabelle’s mother, who even from the top of the staircase Isabelle could see was close to dropping to her knees.

A sudden rush of adrenaline pulsated throughout Isabelle’s body at the sight. She gripped onto the handrail and slowly made her way down to the first floor, one step at a time. 

“Tessa Virtue.” This time, the name rolled off of the man’s tongue delicately, as though each syllable were made of glass. He beamed. Even from the stairs, Isabelle could spot the twinkle in the man’s eyes. “My god,” he chuckled. “You are one difficult woman to track down, T.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! I was certainly not expecting the positive comments I received on the first chapter _at all_. Thank you all so much for reading it and leaving such lovely comments. They made my day. Thank you, once again. 
> 
> I think I may have mentioned this in my other story, but English isn't my first language. Please excuse me for any grammatical errors. If there are any that are distracting or make the meaning of the sentence unclear, please do let me know in the comments. I'll do my best to fix it right away!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

“Track down?” Isabelle scurried over to where her mother was still frozen stiff. She pushed her mother behind her and glared up at the intruder, who stared down at her with his warm, hazel eyes. _So this is what Mrs. Gallagher meant when she said that kidnappers could look like normal people_ , she thought as the man kneeled down to her eye-level. “You were stalking my mom?”

The stalker’s mouth curled upwards into a melancholic smile. Rather than answer Isabelle’s question, the man continued to examine every one of Isabelle’s facial features in awe. “You must be Isabelle,” he finally muttered. He let out a huff of laughter.“Wow. She looks so much like you, Tess.”

Isabelle crossed her arms. She could see herself reflected off of the man’s pupils. Deciding that she looked far less intimidating than she’d like to, Isabelle furrowed her eyebrows and adjusted her stature so that her feet were planted shoulder-width apart. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her voice came out much more confident than she felt. Today was a day of surprises, it seemed. 

The man didn’t answer (or perhaps _couldn’t_ was the more accurate term). Every time he attempted to, a strangled choke escaped his mouth. He cleared his throat several times, but it didn’t seem to help. 

As though the day couldn’t get any odder, an owl swooped in through the pet flap right as the man was clearing his throat for the umpteenth time. It was carrying a maroon envelope in his beak as well as a parcel using its talons. The parcel was wrapped in brown paper, yet it was in excellent condition: completely dry with no signs of it having traveled through a thunderstorm. The owl placed the package at Isabelle’s feet. The package landed on the floor with a thud. It then somehow expanded to seven times its size. Isabelle rubbed her eyes. 

“I _knew_ telling Andrew was a bad idea,” Isabelle heard the man groan. She peered up and noticed that the owl was now hovering in front of her mother. “You should take it, T. Otus is quite stubborn.” Tessa shakily took the envelope from its beak. The envelope was sealed shut with gold sealing wax. She promptly broke the seal and dropped the envelope, as though it were a burning piece of coal. 

Now, Isabelle’s eleventh birthday was filled with plenty of peculiarities. However, what happened next was the most peculiar of them all, or so she thought at the time: the envelope fluttered towards the ground--which is what any person would expect it to do--but at about three-quarters of the way there, the envelope rapidly folded itself whilst ascending. By the time it reached Tessa’s eye level, the envelope had transformed into a mouth, complete with a set of perfectly square teeth. The envelope’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Then, it took a deep breath. Isabelle clutched onto her mother’s hand.

“Fifteen years,” the letter hissed. It possessed a female voice that had a layer of huskiness to it. “ _Fifteen years_ , Tessa Virtue! You disappear for fifteen years without leaving so much as a note? How could you...” The letter sniffled, its lower lips trembling. When it began to speak again, its voice was much quieter than before. “We thought you’d _died_ , Tessa. Do you know how scared I was every time I got news that a death certificate turned up at the Ministry?” The letter paused once more and took a shaky breath. “You had better send Scott back with the exact date and time you are going to be at Diagon Alley, Tessa Virtue, or so help me I will barge into your home in the middle of the night and turn your pristine, white living room into a gaudy, glittery mess!” Then, the envelope turned towards Isabelle. “Isabelle, dear,” it spoke gently. “Happy birthday. I so look forward to meeting you. Please consider Otus to be a birthday present from me and my family.” 

Isabelle squeaked a little “Thank you.” The envelope gave a wide smile and turned back towards Tessa.

“Date and time!” it demanded before it shut its mouth, unfolded itself back into the regular envelope it was when it first entered the house, and dropped to the ground. 

Isabelle, Tessa, and the stranger stared at the now mute envelope, none of them daring to break the eerie silence that lingered between them. Sensing the tension in the room, Aida activated with a beep. 

“This seems like a situation that requires a nice cup of tea,” she said. “Would you like me to turn the kettle on?” The stranger lept about three feet into the air and starting twirling around with the stick in his hand, pointing it at anything and everything, much to Isabelle’s confusion and amusement.

“Relax, Scott,” Tessa muttered. Her voice trembled ever so slightly. Isabelle squeezed her mother’s hand even tighter. “It’s just a virtual assistant.”

“A _what_?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely, Aida,” Tessa sighed. She rubbed her temples with her hands. “Come on into the dining room, Scott. You too, Isabelle.”

Instead of following her mother and the stranger ( _Scott_ , Isabelle reminded herself), Isabelle squatted down and inspected the now mute envelope. She poked it with her finger; it did nothing. She picked it up and flipped it over; it still did nothing. Finally, she hastily opened the envelope and threw it onto the ground; the envelope still did absolutely nothing. Isabelle toppled onto her bottom. She pinched herself in the forearm so hard that crescent shaped nail marks were left on her pale skin. Nothing changed.

Otus the owl hooted from the armrest of the wooden rocking chair he was perched on. It sounds ridiculous, but Isabelle swore there was a knowing look in the owl’s eyes--like all of this madness that made absolutely no sense to her was part of normal, daily life to him.

“I’m going bonkers aren’t I?” she asked him. Otus cocked his head to the side. Isabelle picked herself up and smoothed down her plaid skirt. “Yep,” she declared. “I’m going absolutely insane.”

* * *

The sight that Isabelle was met with when she entered the dining room was a wonderful break from the bizarre dream she was certain she was trapped in. Her mother and Scott were already seated at the dining room table, a white teacup adorned with intricate, gold patterns placed in front of both of them. None of the biscuits her mother had laid out were floating, thank the lord, and the teapot was as inanimate as ever. The two adults were speaking in hushed voices. Isabelle watched as Scott reached over and placed his hand over her mother’s. Her mother’s hand jolted back slightly but relaxed the instant he grazed his thumb over the back of her hand. It was such an intimate sight. Isabelle wondered if she ought to go back upstairs to her room and leave the adults to do whatever it is they’re doing.

“Isabelle,” she heard her mother say. Tessa was now facing her daughter with a soft smile on her face. She slid her hand out from underneath Scott’s and patted the chair next to her. Isabelle padded over and slipped into the seat. Tessa tucked Isabelle’s hair behind her ear. “Would you like some tea too?” Isabelle nodded. The teapot was too far for Tessa to reach but was right next to where Scott was seated. “Scott, could you please...” Isabelle expected Scott to push the teapot towards Tessa like any normal human being would, but instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out that darn stick of his again. He tapped the lid of the teapot once and muttered something under his breath. The teapot gave off a faint glow. It then floated over to where Isabelle was sitting and filled her teacup to the brim with piping hot tea. Not only that, the teapot then proceeded to glide over to Tessa’s teacup to see if there was still tea left in the cup. When Tessa shook her head and said, “No, thank you,” the teapot set itself down gently. 

Isabelle’s jaw dropped open. “What the _fuck_?” she screeched. Both her mother and Scott snapped their heads towards her. 

“Isabelle!” Tessa frowned. 

Isabelle ignored her mother’s look of disapproval. “Can you please explain what in the ever-loving earth is going on here? I mean… flying teapots? Random stranger that carries a magical tree branch? Owl that delivers mail? That letter origami-ed itself into a mouth and started talking, for Christ’s sake, and neither of you looked at all disturbed!”

Tessa opened her mouth to say something but clamped it shut not long afterwards. She bit her lower lip and traced the rim of the teacup with her finger. Isabelle whipped her head to the side and shot Scott a demanding look. He glanced at Tessa as if to ask for permission, but Tessa kept her gaze fixed on her teacup. Isabelle let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, if neither of you are going to offer an explanation for _this_ ,” she said, waving her hands around wildly, “I think I’ll head on up to bed.” She hopped off of the chair and slid it back in, lifting it upwards slightly to prevent it from scratching the wooden floor. “Good night.” 

A firm hand wrapped itself around Isabelle’s wrist. “Wait,” Tessa pleaded. “Sit down, Isabelle.” Her green eyes met Isabelle’s. They were sparkling with tears. Isabelle’s heart sank. “Please.” Isabelle sat back down in her seat, placed her arms on the table, and patiently awaited her mother’s explanation. Tessa took a deep breath. “Izzy,” she said, looking dead straight into Isabelle’s eyes. “You’re… you’re a witch.”

Isabelle blinked. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m a what?”

Tessa gulped. “A witch, Isabelle. You and I… we’re both witches.”

Isabelle scanned her mother’s face for any indication that her mother lying. “No,” she said, little huffs of laughter escaping her lips. “No. No way. There’s no… there are no such… witches and wizards and vampires and werewolves and… t--they don’t exist. They’re not real.” She scrambled off her chair and backed away slowly. “This is all a crazy nightmare,” she stated. “This is a terrible nightmare, and I am going to go to bed and hopefully wake up and find that none of this is real.” She then turned around completely to sprint back up to her room. 

This time, Tessa didn’t try to stop her.

* * *

Isabelle was startled awake the next morning by a series of soft, but firm hoots echoing in her ears. Confused, she rubbed her swollen eyes and stretched her arm to grab her phone from the nightstand. Her hand collided with something feathery. Isabelle jerked her arm back towards her body and bolted up in surprise, her head spinning from the sudden change in posture. She turned her face to the side and spotted Otus walking towards her. 

“So last night wasn’t a dream after all,” she mumbled. Otus leaned forwards and bowed his head down. Isabelle hesitantly reached out and stroked him on the top of his head with her index finger. “Good morning,” she cooed. “How’d you get in here? I thought I closed the door last night.” 

Otus hooted and turned his head towards the door. It was open halfway. Her mother must have come in last night to check on her.

“I see,” she said, her finger still stroking Otus fondly. “You’re a very smart owl, aren’t you?”

Isabelle slipped out from under her covers and stepped into the unicorn slippers her mother always made her wear around the house. Sitting on her bed, she swung her legs around a couple of times and pondered the existence of the mythical creature that once adorned her entire room. If witches and wizards existed, surely unicorns did too.

After splashing some water on her face and brushing her teeth with an overly-excited Otus by her side, Isabelle stepped out into the corridor. Her mother’s bedroom was still shut close. The guest bedroom, however, was wide open. Isabelle poked her head in. The covers were ruffled, but at the moment, no one was in the bed. Figuring the wizard must have left, Isabelle continued over to her mother’s bedroom. Just as she was about to knock on the door, she heard muffled noises coming from the other side of the door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but Isabelle couldn’t help but put her ear against the door. 

“ _Ilvermorny_?” she heard Scott scoff. “You were going to send her off to _Ilvermorny_? No wonder Patch sent me here with the letter in person.”

There was a brief pause during which, Isabelle assumed, Tessa was speaking. Isabelle heard distinct sniffles. Guilt pooled in the bottom of her stomach and made her feel sick. 

“Tessa,” Scott said. His voice was much softer now--serious, but gentle. “Tess, look at me. She isn’t going to hate you. Everything will work out. I promise.” There was another pause. “Come on, T… don’t be so hard on yourself. We can’t be perfect parents all the time… what about I go talk to her?” Isabelle’s eyes widened. “I’ll go and give her the letter and explain everything, alright? It’ll be fine, Tess.” 

A few more sentences were exchanged between the two adults, but Isabelle couldn’t make out what it was that they were saying. The next distinct sound that she heard were the pitter pattering of feet approaching the bedroom door. Isabelle gasped and dashed down the hallway back to her room. Throwing her slippers off along the way, she leapt back into bed and threw her covers over her head. 

“Isabelle?” Isabelle’s bed sunk near her feet. Isabelle regulated her breathing so as to make it appear as though she was asleep. “I know you’re not asleep, kiddo,” Scott teased. 

Isabelle pulled her covers down just enough for her emerald eyes to peep out. Scott was sitting at the foot of the bed, already dressed and ready for the day. 

“Good morning,” she chirped. Without thinking, she added, “I see you’re not a figment of my wild imagination.” 

Scott chuckled. “No. No, I am not. I am very much real.” He scooted closer to her. “I wanted to apologize about what happened yesterday.”

“Oh.” Isabelle fumbled with the edge of her blanket and looked away from Scott. He gently pulled the covers down and turned her face towards him. His hands were as warm as the color of his eyes. They made her feel at ease.

“Isabelle, I truly had no idea that your mom didn’t tell you a single thing about us. She disappeared from the wizarding world and didn’t use any magic for the past fifteen years, that much I knew. But I didn’t know that she kept her identity--your identity--a secret from you. Hell, I didn’t even know you existed.”

“You didn’t? But… but then how did you know my name?”

Scott’s eyes twinkled. “Ah,” he breathed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope--not a red one this time, but rather a cream beige one with a crimson seal. The calligraphic writing on the front indicated that it was addressed to her. 

“Dear Ms. Virtue,” she read. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of… Witchcraft and Wizardry?” She sat up and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “There’s a school? For witches and wizards?” Scott nodded. “B--but how was I accepted when I never applied in the first place? Did my mom apply for me?”

Scott shook his head. “See, there’s a magical quill at Hogwarts called the Quill of Acceptance. Its sole job is to write down the names of all magical children in the Book of Admittance.”

“ _All_ magical children? So Hogwarts is the only school then?”

“Nah. There’re more out there. Traditionally, Hogwarts only accepted magical children born in Britain or Ireland, but things have changed over the years. In fact, most magical children born in the Commonwealth Realm end up coming to Hogwarts, though a lot of Canadians go to Ilvermorny because it’s closer.”

Magical Quill, Hogwarts, Ilvermorny… all of the novel words swished and swirled inside Isabelle’s mind. “Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“I did. With your mom, in fact. Different year, though--she was in the year below. She was a brilliant witch. Best of her year, in fact.” 

Isabelle nodded her head slowly. “And… and what do you do once you graduate from this… magic school? Do you go to college?”

“Oh, no, no, no. No college for us. Seven years at Hogwarts is enough to prepare you for any career you choose--given that you get sufficiently high newts, of course.”

“Newts? Like the salamander?”

“The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test. N.E.W.T.”

“The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test?” Isabelle giggled. “You guys have funny names for your exams.”

Scott grinned. “Better name than the… oh what are those exams the Muggles take again? The General Certificate of Secondary Education?” he said. He faked a yawn. “Boring. American Muggles take something called the sat, the last time I checked. The sat and the act.”

“You mean the S.A.T. and the A.C.T.,” Isabelle corrected. “So what is it that you do for a living, Mr…”

“Scott. Just call me Scott. Well, for now, at least. You won’t be able to call me that once you get to Hogwarts. I teach there, you see.” He chest puffed up with pride. “Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Isabelle sighed with relief. If she did decide to attend this… Hogwarts, at least she would have _one_ person she would know.

* * *

Breakfast time was very different, now that all secrets were revealed and apologies were said and accepted. Cutleries found their own places on the dining table, eggs cracked and fried themselves, and the pots and pans lathered themselves with dish soap the instant they were done being used. 

“You should have cooked breakfast like this whole time,” Isabelle hummed as she admired the sight from afar. “You wouldn’t have wasted all those eggs had you asked the eggs to cook themselves.”

Tessa glared at her daughter, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. 

“Still have trouble cooking the Muggle way, eh?” Scott teased. He nudged Tessa on the shoulder. “How did you survive all these years without magic?”

“One learns to adapt, Scott,” Tessa said. “You can’t rely on magic for everything in life, though, of course, it is useful at times.” She waved her wand around and sent the plates of eggs flying towards the table. Scott managed to duck them even whilst admiring the photos that were hung up on the walls. 

“It’s been settled then?” he asked. He swerved around another one of Tessa’s flying plates. “You’ll be coming to Hogwarts in the Fall?” Isabelle twirled her hair around her finger and gave a shy nod. Scott beamed. “Excellent! What should I tell Kaitlyn then? I suspect the present Patch and Marie sent is a trunk, but Isabelle will still need to get all of her books, robes, her cauldron… oh, and a wand, of course--can’t forget about the wand.”

“Well… I do have next week off. I haven’t checked the flights yet, but I’m fairly certain that Isabelle and I will be able to get to London by Wednesday. I’ll send an owl with the exact time we’ll be at Diagon Alley.”

“Great!” he exclaimed. He picked up his coat and drew his wand from it. “I’ll see you both next week then.”

“You’re not staying for breakfast?” Isabelle piped up from the living room couch.

“Afraid not, Izzy. I promised my daughter that I’d be back before tea time.” He patted Isabelle on the top of her head. “I’ll see you soon, alright? Make sure your mom doesn’t go too overboard.” He leaned forward to whisper into her ear. “The last time she got this excited about cooking, she hard-boiled all of the eggs and transformed them into bunnies. For weeks, I had eggs hopping around in my kitchen. It was terrible.” Isabelle giggled. Scott flashed her one last wink before he disappeared with a woosh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave any thoughts you have in the comments. You can also come talk to me on tumblr (maple-penny) if you'd like :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Wedged between an antique book shop and an equally dusty-looking record shop on Charing Cross Road sat a pub by the name of the Leaky Cauldron. It was here that Isabelle’s mother brought Isabelle on an uncharacteristically sunny day so that she could purchase all of her school supplies. A pub was the last place Isabelle expected to be in on this fine afternoon mere days after her eleventh birthday, but so many strange things had happened to her over the past couple of days that honestly, her ever-so-strict mother taking her to a place where underage children were not allowed was hardly shocking at all. 

“I thought we were going shopping,” Isabelle gulped. She shuffled close behind her mother as they weaved through the pub. It was surprisingly full for a Thursday afternoon. Most of the witches and wizards clinking beers ought to be at work, she thought. But then, she had no idea how the wizarding world functioned. Perhaps in this world, people went to work in the dead of night rather than during day time.

“We are,” her mother reassured her. “Don’t be nervous, Izzy. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

They stopped in front of a brick wall located behind the Leaky Cauldron, in a small, walled courtyard. Isabelle watched with curiosity as her mom whipped out her wand. Tessa walked over to where a dusty, old trash can sat and tapped on the brick three above and two across from it. She held Isabelle’s hand, a tight smile dancing on her lips, as the red bricks began to vibrate. Isabelle held her breath and watched with wonder as the blocks slid in and out, rearranging themselves systematically. A small hole began to appear in the wall soon enough. By the time the blocks were finished, the hole was large enough for a Isabelle to walk through. 

“Go on,” her mother smiled, giving her an encouraging shove. 

The instant Isabelle stepped through the entrance, it was as though she had been transported three months into the future. Everywhere she looked, boys and girls of all ages were dressed in robes and had a pointed black hat on their heads. Several adults, who were dressed in similar attires, also had a broomstick with them. Isabelle made eye contact with a skeleton that was singing with a choir of Jack-o-Lanterns at his feet. The skeleton sprinkled a handful of candies towards the children that were watching. Isabelle caught one but didn’t get a chance to inspect it, for it leapt out of her hand even before she registered that it was on her palm, the only evidence that it was ever there being the brown footprints that it left behind.

Noticing the confusion on her daughter’s face, Tessa laughed. It was a child-like, carefree laughter that Isabelle doesn’t think she’s ever heard before. “That was a chocolate frog, I believe. They can be a nuisance to catch, but they’re delicious--better than any chocolate you’ll find in a Muggle grocery store.”

“Oh.” Of course chocolate frogs leapt around here in the world of magic. Honestly, Isabelle had no idea why she was so startled in the first place.

Her mother led her past shops stacked to the ceiling with snapping books, shops selling potions stored in vials of all different shapes and sizes, and shops selling silver and gold instruments that Isabelle had never seen before. Eventually, they reached a quaint coffee shop snuggled right at the intersection of two cobblestone streets. The shop’s exterior was covered in roses that were baby pink in color and took turns blooming and withering. They gave off such a strong scent that it was no wonder that seemingly all of the bees and butterflies in the near vicinity were gathered around them. Between the roses, there were hints of scratched ebony that matched the color of the few tables and chairs that were placed right outside the shop. 

The interior of the shop gave off a similar vibe. However rather than flowers, Christmas lights were hung up on the ceiling and draped over the counter. As Isabelle followed her mother into the coffee shop, she stopped to get a closer look at them. They had wings, she found. In fact, they were literal fairy lights: minuscule humans with butterfly wings that were perched on thin wire. They weren’t quite like the fairies that illustrated fairy tale books, though. While these fairies certainly were beautiful, they did not look at all kind. Rather, they looked quite narcissistic, what with the way every single one of them admired themselves in the mirror endlessly. One even had a microscopic perfume bottle, which she bathed herself in again and again. It irritated Isabelle’s nose, and Isabelle sneezed. When she opened her eyes again, she found the fairy hanging onto the wire for dear life whilst piping a string of incomprehensible words furiously. Isabelle was horrified. She squeaked out an apology before scurrying along to catch up with her mother.

“Mom.” Isabelle frantically tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mom, I think I upset one of the fairies. I--” She paused, realizing that her mother wasn’t paying attention to her. Instead, Tessa had her gaze fixed at some point located at the other side of the coffee shop, her body frozen stiff and her breathing ragged. Isabelle’s eyes traced her mother’s line of sight and landed on a woman with silky, blonde hair that was pulled up into a ponytail. She was reading a book, it seemed, but her lips were moving, as though she were reading the book aloud or, perhaps, telling her quill what to scribble onto the floating scroll. Isabelle could pinpoint the exact moment the witch became aware that she was being watched from afar, because the quill dropped to the ground. Without looking up, the woman slammed her book shut, placed it in her bag, and stalked towards them, stopping mere inches away from Tessa’s face. Isabelle took a step backwards without even realizing she was doing so. 

“Tessa,” the woman breathed. Anger flashed in her green eyes. It didn’t match her tone of voice at all. 

“Kaitlyn.” 

An uncomfortable tension was suspended between the two women. Isabelle’s eyes darted back and forth between them. It was Kaitlyn that broke the silence eventually, her eyes watering with tears and lips quivering, just as her letter had. 

“You are a terrible, _terrible_ woman, Tessa Virtue,” she stated. She pulled Tessa into a hug and let the tears trickle down her face and onto Tessa’s shoulder. 

“I know,” Tessa murmured. “I’m the worst.”

* * *

The drink that Kaitlyn recommended Isabelle try was topped with a generous serving of whipped cream as well as a gingerbread man. Isabelle wasn’t caught off guard by the cookie’s animated nature this time, but she did not expect the gingerbread man to start sobbing when she scooped him up with her spoon. She wasn’t planning on eating him; she was planning on offering him to her mother, who was sitting next to her, catching up with Kaitlyn. Once the gingerbread man got on his knees and started begging, however, Isabelle set her spoon down and tipped it slightly so that the cookie could slide off. He gave her a very gentlemanly bow before skipping away.

“I see you have a ring on your left hand,” she heard her mother say to Kaitlyn. Tessa took a sip out of her mug, her eyes twinkling. “On your ring finger,” she added when Kaitlyn didn’t give the desired response.

A faint blush crept up on Kaitlyn’s cheeks. “Well, you know…” She fiddled with the gold band. “Spending four years wondering if you’re going to still be alive the next day, it… it changes you. Makes you do some… foolish things.” She glanced up at Tessa, her right thumb and index fingers still on her ring. “I looked for you, you know. We all did. For the first few years, we thought you and your family had gone into hiding because of the war, but when we couldn’t find you even when it was all over…” 

Tessa reached over to give her friend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here now, aren’t I? And since this little nugget will be off to Hogwarts, I’ll have no choice but to hang around for a while.”

Kaitlyn laughed as she wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Good,” she said. She then turned her attention to Isabelle, who was trying her best to pretend that she was not listening in on the conversation by staring intensely at the book she had brought from home. “It seems like just yesterday that we were at war. To think that the children that were born towards the end of it will be off to Hogwarts this year…” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabelle caught her mother glancing over at her. She heard her mother’s sharp inhale and blatant hesitation. She flipped her book over to the next page without having read a single word on the previous page so as to encourage her mother to continue the conversation. 

“Scott didn’t tell me much about the war. I know it must be very difficult for you to talk about, but I was wondering if… I tried to gather information about the wizarding world, here and there, but...” Tessa shut her eyes for a brief moment before they fluttered open again. “Please tell me everyone is ok.”

“We were very fortunate” was Kaitlyn’s carefully crafted response. Isabelle flipped over to the next page of her book. “All of us survived, with the exception of…” Kaitlyn tilted her head back and blinked away the tears that were forming again. She cleared her throat before continuing. “The entire Rosier family got wiped out.”

“The entire family?” Isabelle glanced sideways to find that the blood had drained from her mother’s face. Tessa’s hands, which were placed neatly on her lap, were shaking as well. Isabelle had never seen her mother so frightened before. Her mother’s lack of composure made Isabelle nervous. “But Scott told me that he has a daughter. I--I thought he married Belle.”

“Oh! Yes, he did. But technically, Sophie is a Moir--not a Rosier.”

Tessa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but not by much. “So Belle? She didn’t…”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “She was killed a few weeks before the war ended. She didn’t stand a chance against all those Death Eaters. She was a great Auror, but Sophie was what… three months old at the time?” She paused to pick up her tea cup, but she didn’t drink out of it. “They say it was her brother that killed her. It drove Scott… mad, to put it mildly. He trusted Aurelius, you know.”

“Scott trusts everyone,” Tessa barely whispered. “Trusts them a little too much, sometimes.” 

Kaitlyn hummed in agreement. “Yes, but that’s part of what makes him a great wizard.” Tears still staining her cheeks, Kaitlyn smirked. “Speak of the devil.” She nodded towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

Two men had just entered: Scott and another, much taller wizard with a head of messy, dark brown hair. The tall man waved across the shop with a child-like grin spread across his face. For the first time since Isabelle met her, Kaitlyn smiled a genuinely happy smile--not one that masked years of pain. She waved back at the man, and Isabelle just knew that on the left ring finger of the man was a ring that matched Kaitlyn’s. 

Isabelle’s suspicions were confirmed once the tall wizard reached their table and gave Kaitlyn a quick peck on the lips. Isabelle didn’t mean to, but she noticed that the man had a slight limp as he walked around the table to sit down next to Kaitlyn. She wondered if he had injured his leg during this war that her mother and Kaitlyn kept talking about. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Scott said, jolting Isabelle out of her thoughts. He clapped her on the back lightly and conjured up a chair from nowhere. Isabelle scooted closer to her mother to make room for him. Upon seeing Isabelle sandwiched between her mother and Scott, an unreadable expression flashed across the tall wizard’s face. Isabelle squirmed as his eyes flickered back and forth between Tessa, Scott, and herself. “So, what do you think of Diagon Alley so far?” Scott asked. 

“Um… it’s nice, I guess,” Isabelle mumbled. 

Scott let out an exaggerated gasp. “Nice? Just nice? Tessa’s only taken you around the boring parts of Diagon Alley, hasn’t she?” Tessa simply laughed nervously, her eyes glued on the tall wizard. Scott started chattering about Weasle Wheezies or something along those lines, but the only thing that Isabelle could focus on was the way her mother and the tall wizard were engaged in a silent, but intense, conversation. Eventually noticing that Isabelle had drifted off, Scott tapped her on the shoulder gently. “Isabelle?” he called. “Earth to Izzy.”

“Huh?”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but instead of his deep voice, a higher, youthful voice reached Isabelle’s ears. “Have you purchased your course books yet?” A pair of blue eyes peeped out from behind Scott. They belonged to a girl that appeared to be around the same age as Isabelle. “If you haven’t, would you like to go to Flourish and Blotts with me? I haven’t gotten mine yet, and I would much rather look at books than sit here and listen to boring grown-up talk.” Little dimples formed as she grinned. Scott pinched her in the cheeks fondly, earning a bout of giggles from her. 

Isabelle felt her face grow hot. “Um…” She looked at her mother, who was staring at the girl with the strangest expression on her face. 

“Go on with Sophie, Isabelle,” Tessa finally choked out. She gave Isabelle a wavering smile and dropped a satin sachet in her palm. “I’ll wait for you right here. You have the list of things you need to buy, right?” Isabelle planted her feet on the ground and got up rather shakily.

“We can go get our wands too,” Sophie chirped. “And then we can stop by the ice cream parlour on our way back. Or maybe it’d be better to go there first. Do you like ice cream?”

“Um… yes. I love ice cream.”

Sophie beamed. “Come on then,” she said, grabbing Isabelle’s hand. “Let’s go get some ice cream first. They’ve got so many flavors here. The butterbeer flavor is heavenly, but perhaps it might be a bit foreign to you. I’ll get that one so that you can try it if you want.” 

Sophie continued to give Isabelle a rundown of all of the ice cream flavors as they made their way out of the coffee shop. Isabelle glanced over her shoulder one last time. The adults had resumed their conversation, with the exception of her mother, who was still turned around in her chair, watching the two girls. It wasn’t until Isabelle waved that she realized that it wasn’t her that her mother was looking at--it was Sophie.

* * *

The girls bought their books at a bookstore called Flourish and Blotts, a magnificent store with shelves upon shelves of books of all shapes and colors. Even after she collected the eight books she needed for school, Isabelle spent ages wandering around the store with her mouth gaped open. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sophie commented. Isabelle nodded wordlessly as a book the size of a post stamp whizzed past them. “Dad told me that there’s an invisible book somewhere here as well. The poor manager purchased hundreds of them because one of the professors at Hogwarts--I can’t remember who--wanted to use it to teach his course one year, but then every single one of them got lost because, well… they’re invisible!” 

Isabelle giggled. “I rammed into something while I was walking around just a few minutes ago. I thought I was going crazy, but maybe it was a stack of those invisible books that they never found.”

Sophie laughed a hearty laugh that very much resembled that of her father’s. “Maybe.” She shifted the stack of books she had to the other arm. “Have you got all of the books you need? I’d love to spend more time here, but we’ve already been here for two hours, and we’ve got to get to Ollivanders before supper time. Mr. Ollivander likes to close his shop early.”

Isabelle hauled her books towards the counter, stopping every once in a while to shift the top most book that seemed to want to do anything but stay put. “Why?”

“He’s afraid of the dark, I believe. He was kidnapped during the war, you see, and spent months in complete darkness. No one knows what happened to him in there, but it can’t have been good.” Sophie dropped her own books onto the counter. She then helped Isabelle with hers. 

“ _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, A History of Magic, The Standard Book of Spells - Grade 1_ …” the lady at the cashier listed off. “You’re starting Hogwarts this year, aren’t you, Sophie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sophie placed her backpack on the cashier and began stacking the books inside, one at a time. The bag looked far too small for all eight books to fit in, but no matter how many books entered the bag, it still looked as though it held absolutely nothing.

“I cannot believe it has already been eleven years,” the lady sniffled. She slid Isabelle’s books closer to the cashier. Sophie placed Isabelle’s books in her own bag before Isabelle could protest. “Please excuse me, darling. I don’t know what’s the matter with me today. It’s just that so many of the children that stopped by today lost a parent or both during the war, and I just…” She produced a handkerchief out of thin air and blew her nose. “Your mother would have been so proud of you.” 

“Thank you, ma’am. I do hope so,” Sophie smiled, picking up her bag as though it were as light as a feather. “I hope you have a lovely day.” 

“You too, love!” the lady waved after the girls.

“Isn’t your bag heavy?” Isabelle frowned as they walked out of the bookstore. “Here, give me my books. I can fit at least three of the books in my bag, and I can carry the rest.” 

“It’s alright. It weighs almost nothing.” Seeing Isabelle’s disbelieving look, Sophie handed her bag over to Isabelle. Isabelle had braced herself, expecting the bag to weigh a ton, but surprisingly, it weighed almost nothing. “Undetectable Extension Charm,” Sophie explained. She squinted her eyes to look down the alley before walking into it. Isabelle followed. “It makes things bigger on the inside whilst disguising the effect. It’s a charm that is heavily controlled by the Ministry of Magic. I honestly don’t know how my mum got away with putting one on this bag. Maybe they let her off the hook because she worked there.”

“Did your dad work there too? Or did he always work at Hogwarts?”

“He did for a couple of years. They were both Aurors, my parents. My dad stopped once the war ended because well… my mom was gone and he decided that he needed to get a job that was less… risky. A lot of witches and wizards left the Ministry after the war ended for the same reason. They had children at home and no family that could look after them, so they switched to jobs that had more consistent working hours and less chance of, well… death.” 

“Oh,” Isabelle said. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Sophie shrugged. “I’m very lucky that I didn’t know her. I think it would have been much more difficult to live without her had I known what it felt like to have a mum, you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Isabelle responded. “I… I don’t have a dad.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Isabelle. I had no idea.”

“It’s alright,” Isabelle mumbled. “I don’t know a single thing about him anyways. I don’t even know his name.”

“Your mum never talked about him?”

Isabelle shook her head. “She told me that she went to school with him, but that’s about it.”

“Hogwarts?”

“I think so. Actually, I… part of the reason I wanted to go to Hogwarts was so that… I dunno,” Isabelle blushed. “I thought maybe if I went there, I might… I figured there must be someone there that might know who my dad is. O--or maybe there’s a photo of him somewhere in a yearbook or something, and I could just flip through...” She dropped her head and kicked a pebble that was on the sidewalk. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not, really. Hogwarts is a small place, more so since the war ended. Most of the portraits that are there now have been there for centuries, so I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them know who your dad is.” Sophie jogged ahead a couple of steps and leaned close to the window of a shop whose sign only had the letters ‘llvnder’ on it. “Honestly, if any of them saw your mum and your dad do so much as walk down the hallway together, every single portrait in the school would know. They adore gossip.” 

Isabelle’s footsteps screeched to a halt. “Wait. What do you mean the portraits like to gossip?”

Isabelle’s question had sprouted from her disbelief that paintings could formulate sentences, but Sophie must have misunderstood, because she simply said, “Oh, you’ll see. It’s ridiculous. It’s like they were painted just so they could spread frivolous rumors around” as she pushed the door open and motioned for Isabelle to follow her inside.

* * *

Mr. Ollivander was an elderly wizard who had silver hair that curled wildly in all directions and matching silvery orbs that pierced through the shadows of the shop. There was an ominous look in his eyes. It made Isabelle uncomfortable. Sophie, on the hand, looked perfectly content as Mr. Ollivander bent down until his nose was grazing hers. 

“Sophronia Moir,” he spoke. His voice was raspy and soft. It sent shivers up Isabelle’s spine. “I thought I might be seeing you soon, though I didn’t quite expect you to come with Ms. Virtue.”

Isabelle blanched. She had never told the man her name. 

“What a terrible fate it was your mother faced,” he clucked. “The… _betrayal_ …” A tape measure came whirling out of nowhere and started taking both Sophie’s measurements. “It seems like yesterday she walked through that door to buy her own wand. Yes, yes… I remember it well. Willow and dragon heartstring, if my memories have not yet betrayed me. Powerful wand, indeed. Flexible, but powerful. I thank Merlin every day that it chose your mother rather than your uncle.” He shivered. “Your father on the other hand was chosen by one made of pear and unicorn hair. No surprise there.”

Isabelle strolled around the shop while Mr. Ollivander pulled out wand after wand for Sophie to try. There were shelves of narrow boxes, many of which were covered in dust. Inside the boxes were sticks, Isabelle knew, but something about the atmosphere of the shop almost made it seem as though the boxes cased living, breathing, thinking spirits. “There we go!” Mr. Ollivander squealed. He twirled around on the spot. “Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. I remember giving your mother a wand made of walnut to try out first, as I do with all highly intelligent witches and wizards. Wasn’t quite right for her, but oh! Splendid!” He then fixed his gaze on Isabelle. A gentle smile on his face, he beckoned her to come forth. 

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Sophie told Isabelle.

Nodding, Isabelle dragged her feet over to where Mr. Ollivander was. She cowered in fear as he put his glasses on and inspected Isabelle the same way he had inspected Sophie. “You have your mother’s eyes,” he commented. His fingers traced her chin lightly. “But this… and this…” he said, running his finger through her hair. He hummed a light tune and snapped his fingers. The tape measure came flying out of nowhere again. “Pine and dragon heartstring, yes… matched your mother very well. The instant she grasped that wand, I knew she would go on to be a wonderful witch.” He climbed up the ladder and pulled out a few boxes. He checked the label, shook his head, and slot them back in. “Is it still in her possession?”

“Um… I think so.”

Mr. Ollivander scurried around the shop, murmuring something under his breath. His search for Isabelle’s wand was a sharp contrast from his search for Sophie’s. While he had pulled out wand after wand for Sophie to try, with Isabelle, Mr. Ollivander seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. 

“Ah!” he gasped. He gave Isabelle the most curious look before pulling out a red box covered in dust. He blew the dust away. Isabelle sputtered and coughed as the dust tickled her nose. “Here we go. Hazel and phoenix feather. 10 inches. Bendy, but only slightly.” He set the box down in front of her. “Go ahead. Pick it up and give it a whirl.”

Feeling rather foolish, Isabelle picked up the wand with her right hand. She felt a surge of warmth enter her and course throughout her body the instant she picked it up. It was a novel feeling, one that summarized Mr. Ollivander’s words perfectly: the wand chooses the witch. 

“Magnificent!” he squealed, clapping his hands. “It’s rare that the first wand happens to be a perfect fit, but of course… we did have a head start. I wonder… had it been the other way around… yes, I’m sure I still would have… yes.” He drummed the table with his fingers. “Curious… curious indeed…” He hummed that tune again. Isabelle quickly paid him seven gold nuggets and ran out of the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the kudos and comments you left on the previous chapter. I absolutely loved reading every single of them. They all mean so much to me. Thank you :) I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as well. Please feel free to come talk to me on tumblr (maple-penny) or leave a comment below. I'll do my best to respond to them. I hope you all have a nice weekend!


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